Work Text:
When Tony had mentioned he had a few upcoming meetings taking place in Washington DC, Peter had casually mentioned that he’d only been there once and hadn’t really gotten to see much. And that had quickly become an invitation for him to come along for the ride.
“You’d be on your own while I’m in my meetings, but after that I could take you around to see whatever you want. And since it’s summer, I suppose we could make an entire vacation out of ot” Tony had offered. “As long as you think your aunt Hottie would be okay with it.”
Peter had eagerly accepted the invitation, and to his delight, his aunt had readily agreed to it. From there, the next three days were a flurry of packing and researching the various activities that the Nation's Capitol had to offer. He dug through numerous websites and travel blogs and read through several relevant articles in the days leading up to the trip. To the point that by the time they were checking into the giant luxury hotel, he was feeling fully and completely prepared.
The first day was great. Tony was going to be in and out of conferences all day, so Peter set out to explore on his own. The local transit made it easy for him to get wherever he wanted to go, but with it being so hot outside, he chose to spend the majority of the day touring the different branches of the Simthonian. He managed to squeeze in three of the twenty or so locations before being called back to the hotel for dinner.
The next day was completely different because Tony was free and willing to do all kinds of touristy things with him. They started at the national mall doing a self guided tour of the monuments and statues in the area. It was increasingly hot and brutally sunny, but there was so much to see that it was easy to disregard both of those things for a while. Although, after some time, he could feel the back of his neck, his ears and his cheeks starting to burn. He didn’t think much of it until Tony pulled him into a store and insisted on buying him a hat, a bottle of sunscreen and a cold drink.
After slathering every inch of his exposed skin with the oily sunscreen, Peter pulled the denim cap down over his forehead. Sunlight aside, he hoped it would help to keep sweat from rolling into his eyes. “Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he said as Tony handed him his bottle of lemonade. The cool sweet citrusy liquide was a welcomed distraction from the sweltering heat.
They walked around several more places reading plaques and taking Pictures to send to May. During that time, Peter’s legs began to cramp up a bit. He had to pause periodically to stretch them out. On top of that the burn on his neck and cheeks still stung a bit and the heat seemed to have sapped up a good portion of his energy. Just enough to feel like taking a break but not enough to completely slow him down. He was Spider-Man after all, and walking a few miles around Washington DC shouldn’t be any kind of a problem. So, he kept Tony’s pace and tried not to sound too eager at the suggestion of cafe lunch. He hoped that sitting down on the shady patio and drinking some caffeinated soda would perk him up a bit. There were still a lot of things he wanted to pack into the day.
However, by the time they were walking out of the cafe and into the adjacent gardens, Peter’s head had begun to ache. The pain was relatively dull but it was concentrated in one spot in the middle of his forehead making it difficult to simply ignore. As such he found himself continually pressing the heel of his hand onto his eyes in hopes of rubbing it away. When that didn’t work, he pulled the hat off of his head long enough to run a hand through his sweaty curls and adjusted the strap so it wasn’t so tight.
“Where to next, Kiddo,” Tony asked as they finally exited the large botanical garden.
“Well,” Peter said before pulling his phone out of his pocket. Then he squinted at the screen as he flipped through a few bookmarked websites. “The National Cathedral isn't too far from here and there’s a pretty cool looking gargoyle tour at five,” he said, realizing too late that they probably should have reserved their spot ahead of time. “Do you think it’s sold out already?”
“Eh,” Tony said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Even if it is, I’m sure I can convince them to squeeze us in.”
Peter sighed and looked around, taking a complete survey of their surroundings. “Well, I guess let’s do that,” he said. “At least the first part of it’s inside.”
Tony chuckled and looked at his watch. “We’ve got some time until we need to head over. Should we grab a snack?” he asked and Peter hesitated. While a snack didn’t sound like a terrible idea, he’d already planned on asking for a completely different kind of stop.
“Actually, Mr. Stark,” he hesitantly replied. “I was wondering if we could run into that souvenir store over there first.”
“Of course,” Tony happily agreed, then pressed the crosswalk signal’s button. They walked across the street together and entered the small store. As they did so, the air conditioning hit Peter’s overheated cheeks, causing him to sag with mild relief.
“Grab whatever you want, Kid. It’s on me,” Tony said and Peter nodded his head. Then he sheepishly slinked off towards the more practical section of the store. Everything there was sort of crammed all together in one corner. Emergency poncho’s, travel sized cans of deodorant, mini sewing kits, a small box safety pins. He passed his eyes over the random assortment of products several times before realizing that what he wanted was at the front. So, he wandered back over towards where Tony was standing with a water bottle in his hand and grabbed another lemonde for himself.
“Is that it?” Tony asked, glancing between the drink in Peter’s hand and the shelves filled with t-shirts and trinkets.
“Sort of,” Peter mumbled. “The other thing I was going to get is by the register.”
Peter watched as Tony looked perplexed between him and the front of the store. He was glad no questions followed. Instead they both walked towards the cashier, where Peter found an overpriced sachet of pain relievers and plopped them onto the counter between the two cold drinks. He could feel Tony’s eyes on him for the length of the transaction, all the way up until they walked out of the store.
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked, the moment they’d stepped back out into the sidewalk.
Having been expecting the question, Peter answered without missing a beat “Nothings wrong, Mr. Stark. I just have a headache,” he said as casually as he possibly could given the amount of discomfort he was experiencing. However, Tony didn’t seem to buy in, as he reached forward to feel the back of his neck.
“I’m not sick or anything, I swear,” he said as he ducked away from the touch. Although, he realized at that very moment he was starting to feel a bit queasy. He tried to justify it by telling himself that he’d not eaten anything of substance since lunch. He tore open the sachet and shook the tablets onto his tongue, before taking a long swig of the lemonade. Tony didn’t look convinced but the subject was dropped and that was good enough for him.
“Should we grab a snack on the way back to the car?” Tony asked and Peter agreed. Part of him hoped that putting something in his stomach would ease both the headache and the nausea. He sighed heavily as he forced himself to follow Tony halfway around the block.
“How about that place? It doesn't look like much but it has excellent reviews,” Tony said while gesturing towards a hole in the wall restaurant. Peter’s eyes followed the motion and landed on a hand written sign boasting a variety of sweet and savory empanadas.
“Sure. Sounds good,” he lied. The smell of the oil and seasonings was wafting out the door making his stomach twist into knots.
“What do you want, Kid?” Tony asked, once they’d reached their turn at the counter.
“I dunno,” Peter replied while hesitantly reading the menu. “Maybe- Maybe just a blueberry one?” he said, then licked lips. Despite the amount of liquid he’d just taken in, his mouth felt overly dry.
“Just the one?” Tony asked, with a dubious quirk of his brow.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s already starting to get kinda late and we were going to pick up food on the way back from the cathedral, right?” he waveringly replied.
“Since when has that ever stopped you from gorging yourself on snacks, Pete?” Tony scoffed, then dropped his tone to something much softer. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Peter forced a smile and nodded his head. “Yep,” he replied with false bravado. “Just a little tired and, you know, my head.”
Tony looked at him, clearly unconvinced and wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulders. “Well, let me know if that changes, alright?” he said, giving his back a gentle pat before pulling away.
“Yeah, sure. Of course,” Peter replied, then stepped to the side while Tony placed their order. And soon they were walking towards the car with a fruit filled empanada in one hand and a small cup of mango fresca in the other.
As soon as the valet pulled up and opened the passenger side door, Peter fell into the seat beside Tony. The car had already been run long enough that the air coming from the vents was already cool. He couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and so that it could blow directly onto his burnt cheeks. It didn’t do much to help his stomach, his head or his aching muscles but it felt nice all the same. Suddenly, it came to mind that his Spider DNA had affected his ability to properly thermoregulate. That was something he’d quickly learned during the chill of winter. He’d never considered the opposite side of the equation, that perhaps his body was having just as much trouble cooling down as it did staying warm. It didn’t seem completely unreasonable but he was sweating profusely leading him to believe that perhaps being hot wasn’t nearly as problematic as being cold. His body certainly seemed to be making an effort to cool off. With a deep sigh, he removed the hat from his head, closed his eyes and leaned against the window.
“We’re here,” Tony abruptly stated, causing him to startle.
“Huh?” he replied with more alarm than expected. But he’d not meant to fall asleep and it was taking some time to process where exactly he was. The fact that his head had gone from aching to throbbing and the nausea had grown significantly worse wasn’t helping.
“We’re at the catheideal. You fell asleep,” Tony replied, as if it should have been obvious. And maybe it should have heen. When Peter looked out the window, he could see the church and yard surrounding it at a distance
“Oh,” he stupidly replied. “Sorry.”
Tony shrugged his shoulders and cracked his own door open. “Ready to go do this thing?” he asked, and Peter nodded his head.
The moment they got inside, Peter found a sign indicating there was a bathroom at the bottom of a short flight of stairs. He excused himself quickly, leaving Tony to work out the details of the tour. Once inside the bathroom, he used the toilet and went to wash his hands. Then he leaned over the sink to get a good look at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were flaming pink with sunburn and his eyes were a bit glassy. He sighed wearily before splashing some water onto his face and rejoined Tony in the church lobby.
“We’re all set,” Tony said, as Peter approached his side.
Peter smiled but all he could bring himself to say was, “Cool.” He wanted to be excited. He really did but he was feeling utterly horrible. He was tired, chilled and sticky with sweat. His mouth was watering with nausea and the pressure in his head was almost more than he could take.
After only a few minutes they followed a guide up a few flights of stairs and down a hallway, pointing out a few of the visible gargoyles through the windows. However, all Peter really noticed was that there didn’t seem to be another bathroom on the level they were on.
The room they were all ushered into was large and lined with old church pews. That left plenty of room for everyone to spread out. Peter chose a bench towards the middle, while putting as much distance between himself and the other participants as possible.
“You good, Kid?” Tony asked with concern, to which Peter nodded his head. “You sure?”
“Yep,” Peter returned, probably more quickly than would be believable but Tony didn’t ask any further questions. The man at the front of the room had already turned on the projector and begun to speak. Something about the difference between gargoyles and grotesque he thought. It was all really interesting but between his head and his stomach he couldn’t actually focus. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath in through his nose. Everything in him wanted to stretch out over the hardwood pew they were seated on. It felt as though his head was going to explode and his stomach was going to go right along with it. All he could do was sit there, swallowing compulsively, in hopes of staving off the inevitable. Then a small indistinguible burp brought the lingering taste of blueberries into his mouth where it soured on his tongue.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” he frantically whispered in Tony’s direction. He was already dreading the trip back down stairs because he didn’t feel like he had much time.
“Again?” Tony asked, a single brow raised in disbelief. “I thought you wanted to hear all of this.”
“I do, Mr. Stark. I really do but I don’t-” he began but was interrupted by a weak, non-productive gag. “-feel so good,”
“Oh geez,” Tony replied, suddenly sounding a bit frantic himself as he nudged Peter towards the aisle. “Okay, let's get you out of here and-”
But it was too late. Before Peter could slide to the end of the bench, his stomach decided it had already given more than enough warning and began to empty. He had just enough time to lean forward in order to avoid his clothing when a rush of bright purple vomit erupted from his mouth and onto the floor. Despite his misery all he could think was that he’d forever left his mark on The National Cathedrals carpet in the form of a neon violet stain.
He could feel Tony’s hand on his shoulder and glanced up just long enough to see that there are a few people looking in their direction. Then the next wave hit, practically folding him in half as he heaved. During which time, the man at the front continued to talk as though nothing was happening.
“Oh my God,” Tony whispered in a combination of horror and awe. “You just vomited in technicolor ”
“Shut up,” Peter half-laughed, half-panted, followed by another pathetic gag.
Tony waited a grand total of six seconds before reopening his mouth to ask, “Do you think you can move now? Because I feel like we should get out of here before someone notices and starts trying to perform an exorcism.”
Peter looked bleary eyed from the intensely hued puddle to the back of the room. It felt like a really long walk but Tony was right, he absolutely did want to get out of there before anyone had the opportunity to say anything. He was embarrassed enough without being called out on the matter. He carefully scooted toward the end of the bench and headed towards the elevator in the hallway. But not before Tony had questioned him at least three times about whether or not the stairs would be a better choice given the situation. He continued to insist he was fine. Mostly because it felt like his legs might give out at any moment and he really didn’t want to be in a stairwell if that happened.
After a brief stop in the bathroom for a quick clean up, they stepped outside. Tony placed a hand on Peter’s forehead. " You’re not warm,” he said. “If anything, you’re clammy. Migrain?”
“I don’t know,” Peter replied. Because he’d already taken stock of his symptoms and nothing seemed to be adding up. He didn’t have a fever, but he’d had goosebumps crawling over his skin since they had arrived at the church and his headache wasn’t in a place he would typically associate with a migraine. “It doesn’t feel like a migraine,” he finally stated.
”Well, what does it feel like?“ Tony asked, as he guided Peter into the front passenger side seat of the car.
“Like,” Peter began, then grunted in mild frustration. “Like. It feels like the flu but the headache is three thousand times worse and I can’t stop shivering.”
Tony grew quiet and pensive as he started the car's engine. Then he glanced to the side and asked, “Have you had enough to drink today?”
Peter’s browns stitched together in thought as he went through a metal check list of all the drinks he’d had that day. “I think so,” he questioned. “I had a soda with lunch and all that lemonade, plus the mango juice just before we came here.”
“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “But have you had any actual water?”
Peter shook his head and Tony sighed in response. “It’s probably heat exasution,” he said, then began to back out of their parking space. “Let’s get you back to the hotel.”
Peter lay on top of the soft hotel bed for quite a while, drinking tiny cups of water as they were handed to him. Though after some time, the sports drink that Tony had purchased from the lobby vending machine was also being thrown into the mix.
“Why does it have to be so blue, Mr. Stark?” Peter groaned as he sipped at the hydrating beverage.
“Because it was the only kind they had,” Tony replied, followed by a smirk. “And you didn’t want me to leave long enough to walk to the corner store, remember?”
Peter hummed a neutral response and tipped the remainder of the liquide into his mouth.
“Besides, this way if you throw up again it’ll be a vibrant shade of electric blue,” Tony said. Then climbed into the bed beside him, the proximity so close that their elbows were touching. “It’s one of my favorite colors, actually,” he cheerfully elaborated. “Definitely a step up from that wild shade of fuchsia you produced earlier.”
Peter sighed and turned his head to the side to look Tony in the eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m already starting to feel better,” he deadpanned.
Tony smiled softly. “That’s actually really good to hear. Just needed to cool you off and get you hydrated, huh, Buddy?”
“I guess,” Peter mumbled, curled onto his side and pressed his face into Tony’s shoulder. They laid like that for a while and eventually Peter dozed off. When he woke up again, he was feeling better than he had for the majority of the day. Then his stomach began to protest the amount of time he’d gone between meals. He shifted to sit up, jostling Tony in the process.
“Hey, kid. How’re you feeling?” Tony asked, looking somewhat surprised to see him awake.
“Good,” Peter said as he stretched his arms over his head and behind his back. “Hungry”
“That sounds about right,” Tony chuckled. “It’s after seven and you haven’t had anything of substance since lunch. I mean, other than the blueberry carpet bomb, of course.”
“Oh God, the carpet,” Peter groaned in horror. Then his brain had the audacity to skip ahead to something a bit more selfish. “And the tour. I can’t believe I made us miss the whole tour. There were going to be binoculars to borrow and everything. I wanted to see the Darth Vader Grotesque,” he whined, then flopped back down onto the fluffy pillows.
Tony looked down at him and rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, kiddo. I can pay for another tour,” he indulgently placated. “Better yet, I can buy us some of our own binoculars and we can do the tour ourselves.”
“And the carpet?” Peter hesitantly questioned and his mind continued to flip-flop between emotions.
“Already taken care of. Don’t worry about it,” Tony vaguely replied.
Peter lay there quietly waiting for further explanation. When none came, he narrowed his eyes and asked, “Taken care of, how?”
“Reasonably,” Tony smiled, to which Peter sighed.
“Define reasonably,” he said, although at that point he wasn’t certain he wanted to hear the answer.
“I called and offered to pay for the damage, and they insisted they had insurance to cover it,” Tony said with a shrug of his shoulders, then grinned. “But, since they’re a non-profit organization, I just went online and made a large donation to their refurbishment project instead,”
“Yeah, alright,” Peter conceded. He was still a little embarrassed and hated that he had been the cause of such a large sum being spent. He was able to tamper those feelings down by telling himself that the money was going to a good cause. “I guess that sounds okay,”
“Glad we’re in agreement,” Tony quipped, then pulled Peter into a firm side hug. “Now what do you want for dinner?”
“Anything but blueberry empanadas,” Peter replied without missing a beat. He was sure he would never be able to eat them again without being assaulted by the memory of desecrating the world’s sixth largest gothic cathedral. “Actually, I don’t want any blueberries at all. Ever again,” he added with visible disgust.
“Sure thing, Kiddo,” Tony replied in a tone that screamed disbelief. Then casually picked up a pamphlet filled with local dining recommendations. “How about some Ramen? There’s a place right around the corner and there’s not one blueberry product anywhere on the menu,” he teased. “You can have it with a big glass of water. How’s that sound?”
Peter smiled and nodded his head in agreement. “That sounds perfect,” he said, then sighed contentedly as he leaned into Tony’s side.